Give Us a Smile
by thepandathatrawrs
Summary: "What's your game?" "No game." It is an eerie echo of the conversation with Brad two days ago.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own iCarly nor its characters – I just own the plot in between what is shown in the episode.

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><p>You smile when you see him whoop loudly and celebrate his victory of breaking his record at arm wrestling with you.<p>

It is not a large smile that breaks your face into two, or noticeable enough for Carly to see, but it is there, although it is fleeting as you quickly morph your mouth into a frown when Freddie glances over. You know what he sees: a blonde girl with arms stubbornly crossed and a 'sore loser' type scowl dominating her face.

"Congratulations," you snap, standing up. He continues to cheer with Gibby and the rest of the idiots in the room as Carls flashes you an 'I'm-proud-you-didn't-lose-your-temper' grin that you roll your eyes (kindly, of course – it's _Carly_) automatically back to. It does not surprise you that none of them realize that you are inwardly just as amused as you were when Freddie had done his pre-arm wrestling warm-ups. You have to admit puberty had treated Freddie well, and the girls in the class obviously shared the same sentiments as you (but more vocally).

You sigh as you see Freddie continuing to gloat out of the corner of your eye. Maybe you should casually mention that you had counted the seconds and had unleashed your full power once you knew he had passed his past record.

All thoughts of popping Freddie's ego fly out of your head when Brad comes in. Or rather, Brad and his _fudge_.

Even though you do not see where he placed his fudge, you have this sixth sense when it comes to the presence of delicious food.

And of course, you get your (bigger) piece of the heavenly fudge after you and Carls appoint Brad to be the new intern of iCarly. Unfortunate memories of Cort's (and that stupid_ feminidiot_ that Benson had hired to make a point) time on iCarly flash through your head, and you grimace. You bite into your fudge with slightly more vigor than usual, and when Freddie turns his head towards you, you give him a fudge-covered teeth-bared smile.

The smug pleasure of seeing him make a disgusted face at you and turn away is marred by the small blow at your pride at his reaction. He would not have had that expression if Carls had done the same thing. Then again, Carls would never really deviate from the behaviors she considered to be 'proper'.

You take another piece of fudge, and give Brad the same fudge-covered teeth-bared smile that challenges him to remark about your eating habits. When he simply smiles back at you, seemingly entertained, you blink in surprise but quickly shrug it off. You are just off your game today, that is all – it happens every time you try to do something nice for Freddie without him noticing it.

Later on, after Gibby finishes his rant about you drawing an accurate picture of a penis on his forehead during the last lock-in, you throw a piece of your unfinished fudge at the boy. It bounces off the back of his head with a satisfactory _'thwack'_. You try to look as innocent as you can when two pairs of accusatory eyes turn to you at Gibby's yelp.

Brad plays nice again by simply handing you over the last fudge in the container without another word. You eye him suspiciously, and he just shrugs with a kind of (cute) nonchalant grin before resuming his nerdy conversation with Freddie.

It looked like Brad was worth keeping around after all.

Of course, you knew it was a bad idea to compliment Brad after another successful shoot of iCarly as soon as the words came out of your mouth.

You ignore their puzzled faces and Freddie's dubious stare, but self-consciously run your fingers through your hair. You sort of hate this – how people are always expecting the worst of you. Granted, you _do_ ask for it by skipping school or tormenting Freddie or that one time you stole a buck from a beggar, but still. Was it so hard for them to believe that you were not all that bad?

At least Brad does not look like he is trying to figure out what your ulterior motive – not that you had one, anyway.

It bothers you how Freddie doubts you while Brad simply accepts the rare compliment. Maybe he had not heard enough stories about you and what havoc you had caused so far, but nonetheless, you find it difficult to accept that a classmate is more willing to believe you than the boy you have been falling in love with since what feels like _forever_ ago.

But the emotional angst you have going on is all hidden inside, while on the outside, you try to look as impassive as you usually would look. However, your ears perk up at Freddie's mention of working on a school project with Brad. A school project that you have yet to thought up of.

You try to not let the fact that Carly knows about Freddie's project and _you_ don't bother you too much. After all, they both are hard-working students, maintaining their starry straight A's, while you are well into nearly flunking all of your classes.

You _also_ try not to glower when your best friends give you yet _again_ a skeptical look and an interrogation. Shouldn't they be pleased that you are _finally_ starting to gain an interest in your academics (even if for the wrong reasons)? You hate how you are thrilled at Freddie's squeeze on your shoulder.

You have it_ bad_.

Nonetheless, Freddie eventually agrees to let you help (after all, you both know that you are quite tech-savvy), and Brad happily greets you into the group with the mention of fudge. Patting your stomach as you follow them out of the room, you unconsciously shoot Brad a quick, fond smile when nobody's looking. He is like a cute puppy, and he _still_ has not gotten on your bad side yet.

It probably has to do with how he keeps on feeding you.

You ought to feel bad about cancelling on Carly about dinner on such short notice, but how could you _not_ take up the chance to watch a movie with Freddie (even though technically _you_ are the one tagging behind Brad and Freddie)? Especially since Brad offered to pay for your ticket _and _your extra-large bag of caramel-topped popcorn.

You have a nagging suspicion that Freddie only let you pick the movie because Brad made such generous offers. It seems impossible that Freddie seems threatened by Brad's gentlemanly gestures, but it nonetheless works to your favor.

It is unsurprising that you chose the movie with the title that suggests gruesome plots and violence: 'The Oozing'. A quick look at Freddie's direction confirms your thoughts that you will need to bring an empty bag with you to the theater by the way he blanched at your pick. Brad, on the other hand, mirrors your excitement (although his is more contained) as you march them to your seats.

The boy is full of surprises.

And you see just _how_ surprising Brad can get when he wordlessly gestures you to sit next to Freddie, and sits down on your left after you settle down. His casual grin does not fool you once you shoot him a sharp look – after all, he is trying to fool _you_. Before you can upright ask him what his game is, the movie starts, which immediately pulls your attention away from Freddie and Brad, who still has his infuriating, all-knowing smirk.

All is forgiven and forgotten once he passes his bucket of popcorn to you right after you finished wolfing down on yours in ten minutes.

"Is Freddie alright?" you ask Brad, showing a lot more concern than you had earlier in front of Freddie. You breathe out a sigh of relief when the boy nods, although his expression is a little grim.

"I think the beheading of the slime monster pushed him over the edge."

You nod. Trust Benson to be squeamish over a movie. "You don't seem too bothered," you finally say after an awkward pause, impressed by his ability to stomach such a movie. "I thought I would be taking care of two babies tonight."

His laugh fills the empty hallway, and you find yourself admiring the sound. It is almost as warm as Freddie's. _Almost._ Before you two say anything else, the echo of Freddie's dry heaving rings all the way from the men's toilet to where you are standing. You and Brad simultaneously wince. You gesture to the direction of the bathroom. "Well?"

Brad leans against the dirty wall behind him, brows raised as if to suggest something. You arch your own back at him. "I think you might be better at handling Freddie at this stage than I am. Nobody's in there except for him." Not that it would have stopped you in the first place. That's not the point, however, as you catch on to what he is insinuating.

Your mouth hangs open out of your own accord. Your eyes narrow at the ever-so laid back posture and you say accusingly, "Alright fudge boy, what's your game?"

"No game." As if he knew you were going to object, he quickly adds, "I'm just trying to help you with Freddie, that's all."

Something inside of you freezes. There is no way Brad could have figured it out before Carls or anybody else could have. He's only begun to know you for a few days, for God's sake! By now, you know that you have remained gaping at him in gormless fashion for too long to start denying anything. You still glare daggers at Brad anyway as you head towards the men's bathroom. "Hold your stomach, Benson, Momma's coming for you!"

Only because you sense Brad's smirk behind you do you turn around and have the last word. "Do _not_ assume you have me all sussed out because of this." His shrug is enough to leave you contented to resume your job play nurse to Freddie in the men's cubicle.

For now.

You do _not_ like how Brad promptly stands up from his seat when you enter the room carrying a bunch of tech junk Freddie sent you on an errand for. Not that she had minded anyway, seeing as she was probably stronger than the two of the boys combined. You say "Hey" in response, and you tell yourself you do _not_ think that the way Brad's face lit up when he saw you is cute in any shape or form.

After you hand Freddie his stuff, you walk over to the table and place the chips and fresh guacamole there, where Brad is standing. You have to admit – for a geek, Brad has a decent sense of style.

"Wow, that's awesome."

His open grin is effective in pulling you away from foreign thoughts, and you cannot help but watch his face eagerly as he picks up a chip to dip into the guacamole that you brought. Even though you have fooled yourself into believing you had made the dip for Freddie, it is really Brad's opinion that you find yourself looking forward to hearing, seeing as _he_ is the respectable cook amongst them.

Familiar irritation and hurt flares within you when Freddie sends the chips flying out of Brad's hands. "Why'd you do that?" you ask the nub, more than mildly annoyed that he had done that. Really, was it _that_ hard for Benson to trust you?

Apparently it was, and you know it is with good reason.

You stare at him pointedly while you chew, and Freddie dismayed and puzzled look is enough to make you feel triumphant. When he pulls you over for a short interrogation (which you are sure he will not try again), you can feel Brad's gaze on your back. It is difficult to fight of the urge to turn around and stick your tongue out at him, but somehow you manage.

"What's your game?"

"No game."

It is an eerie echo of the conversation with Brad two days ago.

Sitting on the stool, you obediently stare right into the PearPad as it scans your expression. Your thoughts wander to this morning as your expression remains stony. Spencer had given you three plates of perfectly-fried bacon for breakfast, you had walked Carls to Gibby's house, and then you, Brad, and Freddie had met up back at Carly's place to fix your own project. You had eaten more fudge, sneaked in ninja-like glances at Freddie's direction when the nub was not looking, Brad fed you more fudge…

Something you realize belatedly is that you really should not be thinking about that morning when the application is trying to read your mood. It was working fine this morning – it was highly unlikely it was not going to work this time.

In spite of what you believe, Freddie mumbles something about the Mood Reader app not working before frantically rushing off to see _Carly_. You and Brad share a bewildered look at each other – what was that about?

"What…?"

You just shake your head at Brad at his vocalization of your thoughts, and grunt a little when he hands over his camera to you. "Jeez, how much does this thing weigh?" you complain, despite the fact you were carrying more heavier things than _this_ a minute ago, and place it gingerly on the stool you were sitting on moments prior. You pay no mind to his charming laughter, but you _do_ flick a potato chip at him when he asks a question that should never be asked out loud, _ever_.

"So, does Freddie know you like him yet?"

You scoff at him incredulously. The nerve of this guy! He has to be very confident in his ability to withstand pain to even mention it in front of you. "No. And don't you _dare_ breathe a word to him." Your tone is as hard and cold as steel to get the point into his head. Once again, he shrugs. You take a step closer to him, and your voice drops an octave in a warning. "I'm _serious_."

He does not back away, but at least he nods this time. "I know. I'm not the type of guy to be spreading things around like that. I'm just…" He hesitates, which really bothers your impatient side. "I'm just saying, it might make you feel a whole lot better if you just tell him how you feel."

You do not even take his suggestion into consideration. After all, it was easier said than done. What did _he_ know about falling in love with a boy who had turned from an annoying nub to somebody that knew her habits and understood her silent gestures over the years?

Since you do not like the direction of this conversation is heading to, you change the subject fiercely. "So what do we do now, since Freddie's gone off to find Carls?"

You leave the classroom once Brad calls truce after a girl complained that her hamster project was getting rained on by potato chips with bits of guacamole. You have no qualms about ditching Brad to do the cleaning up while you hunt for a ham sandwich – after all, you had emerged victorious from the war of potato chips.

Snickering to yourself when chips fall out of your hair at the slightest shake of the head, your night has just become even better when you see the piles of sandwiches on the tray. When nobody is looking, you take the ham out of one sandwich and sneak it into the middle of your sandwich. Extra ham sandwich, yum.

You are at your locker, happily eating your sandwich when Carly runs through the hallway while calling out your name in different intonations. You remain where you are, but you eye Carls warily. It had to be urgent for Carly to break the school rules by sprinting in the hallway, even if it technically was not school hours.

"Hey Carls," you greet. And at the mention of your extra ham sandwich, you beam through a stuffed mouth. If only you could marry ham – food was less complicated than boys by a _mile._

You should have known your happy time with food was over as soon as Carly got on the topic of brad. "Brad's cool." Your noncommittal comment was not enough for Carly, and you give her a strange look as she prods your arm. You question her actions – what was going on?

Once she yells it to the world, however, you instantly wish you did not know. The announcement is as entertaining as it is ludicrous – the notion of you being in love with _Brad_ is palm-face worthy. Her assertions are easily brushed off with the metaphorical wave of your hands, and you decide that the only way to get Carls off your back is to play along with her, if only for a little while.

Except that it is the damn Mood Reader application that complicates things. Something in your expression has given you away to Carly as you seethe inside. Freddie had lied, albeit badly. It is becoming increasingly difficult to pretend that her words has not struck a nerve, so you leave, straight back to the classroom that Brad was in.

"Freddie still not back yet?" Figures. He probably joined Carly after you left. Looking up, you flash Brad a grin. "I see you have quite the home economics skills. Not a trace of crumbs. Impressive."

Brad chuckles good-naturedly. "I'm glad I can be appreciated around here for something." He offers the packet of chips that have significantly decreased in its amount to you. That makes you wonder how he can trust you not to start a food fight again when the last one had ended not too long ago. Despite the apprehensive looks the hamster-girl is giving you and the bag of chips, you shake your head, indicating that you are not quite feeling for chips.

When Brad whips out his endless supply of fudge, you, of course, dig in.

You eat behind Freddie's computer as you adjust some kinks in the application. That would probably erase any suspicions that she remotely cared for Freddie – he _hated_ people eating while using his laptop. After the fudge is wolfed down in record time, the first thing you start talking to Brad about is fudge.

Maybe you can get his great-grandmother to make her some food as well.

His tiny smile makes you have a tiny smile – until, that is, Freddie winds up returning to the classroom with Carly. Your stomach sinks once they make a ridiculous announcement about a two-headed frog. You watch Carly's expressions carefully, which immediately tips you off that they are making a fib with an ulterior motive in mind. You have seen that expression too many times (namely on your own face) to know that this is trouble for you.

You want to bash your head against a wall when Carls turns the lights off and closes the door after successfully evacuating the room. For once, the awkwardness between you and Brad is palpable. This situation Carly has put you in is _not_ appreciated. The sigh you exhale is loud to your ears.

"So…"

"So…"

You look at the clock and then eye Brad's clueless face to Carly's tactics. Or at least, you think he has no idea what Carly was trying to do. "I guess I'll just stay here for ten minutes before I go confront Carly."

"About what?"

Seriously? You give him a look that is supposed to question his stupidity. He takes no offense and smiles in a way that reaches his eyes. Oh. He knows.

Maybe he senses how pissed off you are, so he does not say anything else unless you initiate it. After the allotted time is up, you walk out of the room, switching on the lights as you go.

He doesn't follow.

You did not think it was possible, but after your confrontation with Carly goes sour, it leaves you in a worse mood than before. Your angry stomps back into the classroom alerts everyone, and they tactfully decide that they were all hungry at once. You are glad that your reputation has worked to your advantage yet again – anyone knows being around you when you are mad is parallel to walking on a land scattered with mines.

For reasons unfathomable to you, Brad remains on his spot, adjusting and fiddling with the PearPad. You approach him, waiting for him to leave. He does not.

So you sit on the floor, and Brad sits down clumsily beside you. There is that silence again, although it is welcomed this time, as he allows you to remain deep in your thoughts.

"How do you know?" If he has heard the vulnerability in your voice, he ignores it, much to your relief. He turns his head to look at you, encouraging you to elaborate. "How are you so confident that I'll feel better once I tell Freddie...?"

"Experience and experimentation."

You groan. You can only take conversations relating to science for so long. Unruffled, he goes on. "It's true." Something in his tone makes you look at him, and his stare is unexpected, silent. It makes you shift uncomfortably, an alarm bell ringing a warning noisily in your head. But you continue the connection.

You should not have been so astonished when you feel his lips on yours.

This sensation is new, jarring in its sudden flood of emotions that it brings you. It is different from your first kiss with Freddie. That had been agreed upon, and this – this is the kind of kiss you _want_ to have with Freddie. It is simple, nothing showy in technique, but it nonetheless feel exhilarated.

You are kissing him back before your brain even registers it. Once you do, your eyes fling open (since when were they _closed_?) and you pull away, giving him a hard shove on the arm reflexively. Your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets. You cannot help but fling Brad an accusatory look, and he looks guilty, but determined.

The silence (the _damn_ silence again!) is broken by his quietly-spoken words. "See? It made me feel better."

You do not trust yourself to say the right thing. So the only thing you _can_ think of doing is going out of the classroom, away from Freddie, away from _Brad_, away from everything including this damn school.

Well, as far as the lock-in will allow you anyway.

You barely hear the distant ringing of the clock once it is midnight.

All you see is Brad's face, all you feel is the kiss, and all you can think about is Freddie-Brad-Freddie-Brad-Freddie and stupid emotions that are well-beyond what you can handle. The water bottle dents and crinkles underneath your death grip.

And then Freddie comes out to the courtyard and everything goes to hell.

You only meant to scare him off. You did not mean to kiss him.

But after the mention of Brad (no, you are not in love with him, you cannot be in love with him, you are in love with Freddie and have been for a _year_ while you do not even know Brad and oh my god), you needed to prove yourself. Not just to Freddie or Carly or Brad, but to the rest of the freaking world that you have non-confused feelings for the dorky nub that had rambled off in front of you (before you cut him off with a kiss).

The kiss makes you think about Brad for a millisecond.

It is enough for you to finally back away from Freddie to measure his reaction. And it is not good. Although his reply is unusually cool, all it succeeds to do is freak _you_ out even further. You scuff your feet uncertainly against the gravel as you let him collect his thoughts, before you blurt out, out of uncharacteristic anxiousness, "Let's just… go back to our project first, okay?"

A pause. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

It just reminds you too painfully of the time when Freddie was unaware of your feelings (or what you thought were your feelings… you do not know, this is all too perplexing for you to digest), so it is your turn to mumble something incoherent and hurry out into the corridor.

Your head turns sharply at the fading sound of footsteps that indicates somebody had been here before they ran off right when you came back in. You are sick of the ominous feeling that settles in your gut.

For once in your life, you wish that tonight had just been about their stupid school project, and nothing more.

You avert Brad's eyes when you walk into the classroom, with Freddie right behind you.

You do not see his expression, but you know he knows. And you do not want to see the kind of expression he wears.

When the three of you try to fall back on the flow of teamwork that had developed over the week, you are certain you are not the only one who feels that everything that is done is done after much calculation.

You pretend not to notice.

You should not have taken a peek at Brad. His usual, amiable smile is gone, replaced by a tight-lipped line in feigned concentration as he fusses over his camera. The absence of his ready smile makes it hard for you to smile.

An hour later, after ten more people are tested for their mood (luckily none of their moods read 'in love'), Freddie declares the group to be done, and goes to find Carly. You gloomily dip a chip into the guacamole, now slightly stale, and you feel Brad siding up next to you.

The unspoken question hangs heavily between you.

You finally look up at him, but he is not looking at you. Instead, he is busy rummaging through his bag. When he does turn back to you, he lays a napkin on the table before putting a large slab of fudge on top of it.

You chuckle humorlessly, and you can tell he is watching you closely. Instinctively, you take the fudge off the napkin and starts munching on it, letting nothing but the perfect balance of crunchy and soft sweetness fill your mouth.

You do not notice the minute smile that lifts up the corners of your mouth very slightly.

You do not notice the smile that returns on Brad's face.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong> It's been so long since I've written _anything_. And really, this is the worst possible time for my muse to come back, seeing as I have exams to study for the next few weeks. However, this little (heh) one-shot refused to get out of my head, and since I _do_ have a copy of iOMG on my laptop, I just had to write this to get it to leave me alone. This is set during iOMG. I originally intended for this to be a Freddie/Sam piece, but… I fell in love with Brad, hard. So. :D Pleasedon'tkillme. I know the ending is quite ambiguous, but after writing and rewriting and deleting several endings, I felt like it was the best way to conclude the one-shot. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and all reviews are welcome!


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